


i saved you every time

by thesummerpalace



Category: Succession (TV 2018)
Genre: Angst, Childhood Trauma, Daddy Issues, Emotionally Repressed, Implied/Referenced Drug Addiction, Implied/Referenced Underage Drinking, Implied/Referenced Underage Sex, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Referenced Overdosing, References to Drugs, affluenza
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-19
Updated: 2020-12-19
Packaged: 2021-03-11 03:08:53
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,203
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28168254
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thesummerpalace/pseuds/thesummerpalace
Summary: i stuck aroundi did behave,i saved you every timei was a fool for lovei was a fool for lovei was a fool-i was a fool by tegan and saraAfter a long night, Stewy tries to break things off like he's done many times before. Kendall's not on board.
Relationships: Stewy Hosseini/Kendall Roy
Comments: 1
Kudos: 20





	i saved you every time

**Author's Note:**

> a oneshot set after "Prague."

“This? Whatever this is? It’s done. Fucking finished. For good.” Stewy declares in that adamant, tough Stewy mien that only comes out when he’s really not fucking around.

Kendall shakes his head, simpering and looking down as if he’s the middle school bully Stewy’s finally attempting to challenge. He then assumes a more genuine, disgruntled manner as what Stewy said really starts to set in.

“No, dude. No. You’re not doing this to me. Shut up, fuck off, no.”

Kendall doesn’t take not getting what he wants with grace. He’s hardly ever had to take it at all.

“Ken. We’re bad for each other. We’d be happy and sober if we just cut all ties. You know that. Deep down you have to know that.”

Even the air in the room feels heavy. Kendall wears a jolted look like this is coming out of nowhere. 

“But you’re what made me. You’re why I even tried at Harvard, you’re why I had the fucking gall to ambush Dad at the meeting, you- you’re why I’m- me.”

Stewy lowers his face into his hands, disappointed in Kendall like he’s a five-year-old fumbling on his spelling flash cards.

“Yeah, well. You wanna know something? You’re why I’ve never fully grown up. Why I’m still hung up on who I was- who we were, as teenagers, and everything that happened. You’re the reason I still haven't married. Why I don’t have kids. My parents are fucking- crestfallen, they think I’m a man whore who prowls parties for 25-year-old girls who just got signed to modeling agencies and I fucking let them believe that. I let my sister believe that. I _prefer_ that they think _that_ , Kendall.”

“Stewy-“

“You gave me the wonderful, formative experience of having to stick my fingers down your throat and get you to throw up the- the bag of assorted pills you’d taken that had you catatonic at that warehouse party in Astoria when we were like, what, eighteen. Fuckin- eighteen, Jesus. That was just the start of- a lot. I’ve been there when you’ve OD'd. I’ve saved you from the potential of it. I’ve bent over fucking backwards for you and get- less, _less_ than nothing in return. That shit was traumatic for me. Ken. I look at you sometimes and I see- I see 20-year-old you, all, all haggard and pale and fucked up standing there in a CVS in Boston while I pick you out a detox kit." Stewy realizes he's rambling. 

Kendall's shocked Stewy remembers everything so clearly; so graphically. It's like there's a shelf of encyclopedias in his brain of their heyday that's laced with the bleaker volumes.

"And, you know, you’re the reason I even went into finance. I could’ve done something actually important with my money and my fuckin- my highfalutin Roy family connections that I wear on my fucking belt buckle, but no, I had to embody you. Your dream. Do you know- that it became ours in my head. I wanted to have something that was _ours_ because I knew that I couldn’t share certain things with you past a point. And the fucked up thing is is it was never even your dream anyway. No, of course not, it was Logan’s. Like everything you do.”

There’s a tautness in the room. Every word Stewy rancorously utters is like lemon juice being drizzled into the open wound. Every word is true.

“Okay. Sure. I know. I fuckin- I’ve done you wrong. I’ve done everyone wrong. Especially you. You know I’m sorry. You know I..." Kendall halts. "You know.” 

Stewy grins in utter disbelief. It's nothing but ridiculous to him.

“See? That’s it. That’s it right there. You still can’t say it. You never could. I can, Kendall. I fucking can. I’m not a coward. I can admit it to myself, at the very fucking least.” This is Stewy's cri de cœur.

“What?” Kendall feigns ignorance, convincing himself he’s focusing on something else; the city traffic, a billboard, maybe.

Stewy scoffs.

“I love you. I love you, Kendall. This whole time. I’ve said it before, God, even a couple times here and there in college. Maybe a year ago or something. Definitely while you and Rava were together. But you _can’t_ _do it_.”

Kendall goes briefly inert. A montage of their years together plays behind his eyes. High school summers spent in the Hamptons: doing uppers and sneaking around the grounds of the estate at night, taking out the Bentley, pool house handjobs enhanced with chlorine-scented hair and risk. Crying in Stewy’s arms when Logan’s targeted wrath went particularly far. The Harvard days of elitist frat parties and waking up in each other’s dorm room beds, hung over, bodies entangled. Their adult life of dreaded conversations about fidelity upon Ken and Rava's engagement, each time pledging it’ll be the last; of greedily making out in empty elevators. Stewy offering him glances of concern at Waystar meetings during Logan’s boardroom degradation. There’s no doubt he loves him. There never has been.

Kendall fixes his gaze on Stewy, almost in preparation.

“Come on, man. Give me something. Something.” Stewy falters.

Time stops. Stewy’s current exhausted demeanor and pleading, teary eyes don’t manifest themselves often. Stewy looks younger, and it registers with Kendall that this is how it got in high school; how it got in college. This is exactly what it looked like when he bore his sensitivity, but it only showed rarely, and only ever because of Kendall. 

“Yeah. Yes. I- I love you. I really do.” Kendall submits, raw and forthright.

Stewy doesn’t perk up. There’s barely a shred of trust to be had anymore. Kendall's never felt this exposed. He’d happily resume hiding behind being drunk or high or both, late-night benders, boredom, not getting girls, uncontrollable teenage desires, every excuse in his arsenal. Because that’s just how the bricks in their path were laid. Emphatic denial is what’s fueled everything they have.

“Then why are we unhappy? We’re fucking miserable. And don’t try to say you aren’t, because if you were satisfied with your life you wouldn’t still always text me after another week of- of bullshit, of Rava rejecting you again, after taking shit from your dad, from Roman, from everyone. You’re so- pathetic, all the fucking time you’re just this wretched soul with everyone shooting their arrows at your back, and you just let them. Including yourself. You think I don’t repress this shit? You think I’m just ecstatic that my thirties are basically over and I’m still _obsessed_ with my childhood best friend? Still sucking him off in fuckin- hipster nightclub bathrooms? You don’t know who you are, Kendall. You completely refuse to come to terms with it. But I know exactly who I am, and that’s the fucking problem.”

Stewy’s voice breaks halfway through as Ken just sits there, characteristically blank and focused at the same time, his story being told from cover to cover. Kendall nods in acquiescence. Only Stewy can make Kendall, unwavering, stubborn as can be, fold. Only Stewy can quiver his fault lines of alexithymia. Only Stewy truly, unmitigatedly knows him.

It’s a rare moment as Kendall Roy’s white flag flies once and for all.


End file.
